Project Description

The concept of designing this 10 cubic meter challenge  starts from its volume.  First we calculate the cubic root of 10, which is approximately, 2.15.  Then we thought, why not making a cube, with the edge of 2.15 m which volume would be 10 cubic meter.  Keeping the pure form, we tried to express the overall world scenario of our doing of replacing natural environment with manmade rigid material jungle.We address ourself as Architect acknowledging that we have done enough destruction to this nature while also doing it repeatedly.  We do poetry with the construction material. We stood on the edge of what used to be a living place—once a breathing hillside, once a generous forest, once wetlands that held rain like a careful palm—and looked out at it not as a miracle, not as a history, but as an opportunity. It was empty space. It was underutilized. It was a before-photo.When we talked to investors, we described land: prime, untapped, ready. When we talked to the public, we softened our voice and spoke about “bringing value,” as if value was the only thing that made anything real. The truth was simpler and uglier: we do not want to coexist with nature rather  wanted to replace it, and wanted to be praised for the replacement. We loved construction materials. Concrete is our earth, metal is our bone, glass is our sky. We liked how concrete swallowed everything—roots, burrows, moisture—and turned it into a single obedient surface, pale and smooth, clean enough to drive a luxury car across without ever feeling the slightest bump of life beneath. Concrete made the world quiet. It sealed the ground like a lid on a box and called the suffocation “stability.” Metal, we adored for its arrogance: steel beams rising sharp and straight, announcing that something permanent had arrived, something stronger than wind and soil. Metal was predictable, scalable, repeatable. And then there was glass, our favorite lie, the material that let us pretend we aren’t fully destroying anything . We built walls of glass and called them openness, wrapped towers in reflective windows and called them harmony, never mentioning the birds that would strike and fall, never mentioning the heat trapped between sun and facade. We stood at community meetings with glossy renderings of bright buildings surrounded by cartoon trees, always including sunlight and smiling people who never looked tired or poor. The forest became a “site.” The river became a “water feature.”  The birds became “noise".